


Dissipate

by bleubonheur



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Dirk's Issues, Dissipate, Drinking, Drunkenness, Homestuck AU, Implied Slash, Jake x Dirk, Jane Crocker - Freeform, M/M, Minor Roxy Lalonde/Dirk Strider, Roxy Lalonde - Freeform, Sadstuck, Shounen-ai, dirk strider - Freeform, jake english - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleubonheur/pseuds/bleubonheur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[DirkJake Oneshot] It was a simple text message, only a handful of words, but the meaning behind it said it all. “Meet me in an hour, usual place.” This was the first exchange of words they had had all week, and he wouldn’t dare not show up. If Dirk wanted something, Jake would do it in a heartbeat, no questions asked. That’s how it had always been between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dissipate

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction I've written in a really long time, so I hope it's okay & enjoyable & not horrendously written? I would love to have constructive feedback if you have it. Inspired by Damien Rice's Album, "O" (mostly because that's what I was listening to while I typed away at this.)
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

 

> **dis·si·pate**  [ **dis** - _uh_ -peyt]   ** _verb._**
> 
>   1. to scatter in various directions; disperse; dispel.
>   2. to spend or use wastefully or extravagantly; squander; deplete.
>   3. _to indulge in extravagant, intemperate, or dissolute pleasure._
> 


 

Jake watched him inhale his cigarette, wondering if the poisoned smoke warmed him more than the frigid air that _he_ was breathing in. As he exhaled the smoke, he slowly let out his breath as well, tipping his head back to watch his breath dissipate into the air. They were standing together under the harsh glare of the street light, Jake’s hands stuffed deeply into his black pea coat pockets, while Dirk’s hand was lazily holding his cigarette, the other resting in his jeans pocket. They stood just far enough apart from each other so that they weren’t touching, the space between them filled with a thick silence.  

He glanced side-long at his partner in crime, although the word “partner” didn’t seem to quite fit their relationship anymore. Dirk stood casually, legs spread apart just enough so he could comfortably rest his weight on one hip. He too was wearing a pea coat, but even with its thickness Jake could still make out his lean, muscled figure. He could notice the smallest details about him with just one glance –how his back straightened slightly every time he reached up to take a puff of his cigarette, his gloved hand shaking slightly from the cold (or nervousness?), and how even after all these years, he would turn is head slightly away to exhale so that the toxic smoke wouldn’t be blown into his face. Jake almost smiled as this thought crossed his mind, but he bit his tongue, knowing it was neither the time nor the place for nostalgia.

It was a simple text message, only a handful of words, but the meaning behind it said it all. “Meet me in an hour, usual place.” This was the first exchange of words they had had all week, even digitally. He hadn’t bothered replying to the message, because they both knew that Jake had no plans for the evening, and he wouldn’t dare _not_ show up. If Dirk wanted something, Jake would do it in a heartbeat, no questions asked. That’s how it had always been between them.

There were always the late nights when Jake would be settling in for the night, falling asleep to some ancient adventure film when he would be awakened to the buzz of his cell phone, which habitually displayed the same two words, “come over.” And so Jake would begrudgingly pull on his boots, slipping out of his apartment to walk the ten blocks to Dirk’s building, with the man himself always waiting patiently outside for his arrival. Neither would exchange any words, Dirk would just turn on his heels once Jake was within close proximity, and the two would walk up the flights and flights of stairs to Dirk’s shitty apartment, tiptoeing around all of his smuppets and other weird “hobbies” that were so messily thrown about his living room to his bedroom, where they would then immediately proceed to strip off their clothes and fall into their nightly “routine.” Before the sun would even break the skyline, Jake would always sneak out of the apartment, careful not to wake Dirk who was always sound asleep on the couch. Never during any of their late-night “meet-ups” had Dirk slept in his bed with Jake, but instead he would slip out of the room and stay on the couch once Jake had fallen asleep. This, like everything else, was never talked about between them. Jake never _asked_ him to leave, but certainly didn’t ask him to stay either.

But it wasn’t like their relationship was defined by these late-night unspoken hook-ups, either. Besides the uncomfortable atmosphere that always came up when they had sex, the two got along _swimmingly_. They were best friends, spending most days together by watching shitty movies and hanging out, getting coffee or just staying in and playing videogames. Most days spent together were good ones, and the bad ones were always characterized by vodka and bar-hopping and sloppy make-outs that always ended with one of them storming out and spending the rest of their night on a park bench somewhere, even if it wasn’t their apartment. It had been like this for quite a few years now, and neither ever talked about their being “unspoken lovers” or what their relationship was or anything along the “sentimental” lines. If the first rule of their friendship was to "not-talk-about-the-sex", the second rule was to "not-talk-about-the-emotions." Even when those bad days seemed to happen more and more between them—so much so that neither could even _afford_ to be in each other’s company because they had spent their salary’s worth on booze—they never talked about it.

And that was where they were now. It had been a week since their last encounter—a particularly bad day for the two of them, which had ended in some too-rough lovemaking, some bitter curses and a hard slap across Dirk’s face before Jake absconded. He hadn’t been surprised by the text message, and was also not surprised by the current silence between them. He welcomed the bitter cold air to his lungs, and enjoyed the familiar scent of Dirk with every inhale that he made. The scent of his cigarettes usually sickened him, but today he welcomed it. As he stared at the sky he wondered bitterly if this would be the last meeting they would have together, if he should soak in all the details now so he won’t forget it later. Again, he looked side-long at Dirk, who was now starting his fourth cigarette. His eyes were blocked by his trademark sunglasses, which he seemed to wear at all hours of the night, (except for when they were sleeping together) and his hair seemed to be slightly more disheveled than usual. Pulling his hands out of his pockets, Jack breathed into them, allowing the steamy air to fog up his glasses and eliminate his visibility of Dirk.

Upon finishing his fifth cigarette, Dirk dropped the butt to the ground and ground his foot into it, a little longer than necessary. Turning his back on him, he finally spoke up. “Wanna grab a beer?”

Jake winced at the sudden shattering of silence, and nodded before realizing that Dirk couldn’t see him. “….Yeah.”

He watched the back of Dirk's head nod slightly in acknowledgement before he began walking forwards, at a brisk pace that Jake could barely keep up with by walking.

Upon arriving at the bar, the two sat down at the counter and Dirk ordered two beers. Jake sipped his, pausing to watch Dirk tip his head back and down it in one go, before slamming the bottle( a little too aggressively) onto the counter and raising his hand for another.

“Dirk, I---“

“I’m seein’ a girl.”

“What?”

It happened suddenly, the words tumbling out of Dirk’s mouth so quickly that Jake could barely grasp them, believe that they were true. It was like this exchange had been building up between them since that text message and now it had just violently burst open and punched Jake right in the gut, leaving him breathless.

This time it was Jake who snatched up the bottle and chugged, welcoming the dizzy sensation at the finish and the satisfying clink of the glass as he dropped it back unto the table.

“Name?”

“Roxy.”

“She sounds blonde.”

“She is.”

“Pretty?”

Dirk shrugged at this, hands running up and down his beer as he wiped at the condensation. Jake wanted so badly to snatch the sunglasses of his face and stare at him in his eyes, to scream at him and ask him _why_.

Whenever they would have a drunken screaming match, it was always about the same thing, and would always happen the same way. Dirk would bring up how Jake was such a “ _selfish, heartless, mother-fucker,”_ and Jake would always retort in a slurred bark that no one could be as heartless as Dirk, who was, “ _more apathetic than a goddamn robot.”_ These shots at each other never ended well, and somehow it always became heated accusations that Jake was sleeping with the chick that lived in the apartment across from him, Jane Crocker. Jake would always deny it, and Dirk would thus respond with some sort of bitter snarl that if he wasn’t, then he sure as hell gave her mixed signals. That would then lead to Jake attacking Dirk for always breathing down his neck and meddling in his affairs, never minding his _“goddamn business_.” By the end of it, the two would be on Dirk’s bed and clinging to each other like it was going to be the end of the world.

Jake had never really paid attention to these venomous conversations (mainly because he never really remembered them the next morning), but now he began to realize that these were just one of the many signs of their impending doom, of this “Roxy” girl, of these beers, and of the unsaid words that hung in the air between them like some sort of sick joke. He wondered if this would have happened if he had, during any of those late nights, invited Dirk to sleep beside him, allowed himself to accept Dirk’s embrace and be comforted by his presence, even fall asleep to it. He wondered if the drinking would never have started if, instead of sneaking out to go back to his apartment in the mornings, he would instead sneak out to make breakfast for the two of them, maybe have Dirk wake up to the smell of coffee and companionship. He wondered if--- _No._ What good was it to wonder about scenarios that never occurred? Those were fantasies, thought of only now because everything was falling apart around him. Jake had chosen not to do any of those things. Now here they were, sitting at this dank bar, drinking beer and preparing for the inevitable end. Their relationship had been toxic, he realized, even with all the good days that they shared.

And now it was over. Dirk didn’t need to say it; Jake didn’t need to say it. It was just like every other unsaid thing between them. With Roxy came the end to Jake. No more late night texts, bar-hopping, or movie-watching. No more “coffee dates” or video gaming or comic-book reading, no more _DirkJake._

Jake inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of stale cigarettes and booze and the faint scent of Dirk, soaking in all the details, so he could remember it later as he fell asleep, probably to some ancient adventure movie, his phone silent, waiting next to him. “Good for you, ‘ole chap.” Jake smiled, pained, before slipping off his chair, clapping Dirk on the shoulder, and walking out of the bar.

As Jake walked back to his apartment he wondered if Dirk had made any sign of emotion once Jake’s back had turned on him, he wondered about cigarettes and whether they were warming to inhale, if he would remember the smell of the bar, and if he should call up Jane tomorrow morning, ask her to coffee. He wondered most of all, however, about dissipation _._


End file.
